


Merlot and Meddling

by Bibislut



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drinking, Fluff, I Was Drunk When I Wrote This, Love Confessions, M/M, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 07:21:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29821395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bibislut/pseuds/Bibislut
Summary: Maybe Pansy could be right for once, maybe this is the closure Draco needs. Or maybe they’ve both just had a little too much to drink. After all, nothing bad ever came from drunk advice, right?
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Pansy Parkinson, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Neville Longbottom & Harry Potter
Comments: 1
Kudos: 68





	Merlot and Meddling

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! You can also find me as bibislut on tumblr here: [Bibislut](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/bibislut)

Draco took a large swig of his wine, swilling it around his mouth as he thought over Pansy’s idea. The two had already finished their second bottle and were now well into their third. The blond was laying languidly on his best friend's sofa, the raven-haired witch in question haphazardly strewn across the neighbouring armchair.

“Not a chance.” Was he slurring?

“Why the fuck not?” Pansy’s high squeal of disbelief echoed in draco’s ears.

“Because it's a moronic idea.”

“No it's not.”

“Yes it is.”

“No. It. Is. Not.” Pansy enunciated each word harshly, pushing herself up. Draco flicked his eyes over to her, meeting her determined gaze. “This will be good for you, Draco. And even better for me, when I read it sober tomorrow.” She grinned.

Draco squeezed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose as he resigned himself to the whims of a stubborn, drunk heiress, with a loud groan. “Fine.”

Pansy squealed, a horrific noise that only Draco ever got to hear. Sometimes he wished that being her best friend was a bit quieter. She clapped her hands eagerly. “Wonderful. It’s about time you got some of this mess-” She waved her hands at him, “- out.” 

Draco sat up, enjoying the slight spin of the room as he downed the rest of his glass. “Top me up then, gorgeous. I’ll need my strength.” He drawled.

“In your dreams.” Pansy scoffed, placing her own empty glass on the coffee table. “I’m going to grab some parchment. Top me up too.” 

If Draco was lucky enough, he’d wake up before Pansy tomorrow, and could burn the blasted thing before she could bully him about it.

\----

Harry yawned widely, scratching his head as he plonked himself down at the staff table. Neville nudged the pumpkin juice towards him, shooting him a sympathetic look.

“Remind me why I took this job again, Neville?”

“Because you’re good at teaching people and making them believe in themselves?” The herbology teacher took a bite of his jam-laden toast.

Harry huffed. “Well it certainly wasn’t to stay up all night grading mock exams.” He pulled a plate of pancakes towards him. “I had more than enough of my own bloody OWLs and NEWTs.” He grumbled. “Should’ve thought this through more.”

Neville hummed. “Do you want me to pour some cold water on you?”

“Don’t even try it.” Harry smirked. “You can’t just throw water on The Saviour of The Wizarding World.”

“Did you forget I’m the one who stood up to Voldemort?” Neville raised an eyebrow.

“What has happened to you?” Harry shook his head jokingly. “Where’s the shy boy I grew up with?”

“Still bloody here.” Neville chuckled. “Just a bit more comfortable now.”

“Teaching suits you.”

“It suits you too, most days.”

Both young men turned back to their food, Harry reaching for the pot of coffee he’d asked for. The noise in the hall rose, and he looked up just in time to catch the post before it hit his plate. Being a Hogwarts alumni and a seeker definitely helped during breakfast.

It was just the usual, a copy of the day’s Daily Prophet, a copy of The Quibbler, a letter addressed in Hermione’s writing, no doubt reminding him of the Weasley spring get-together, and...another letter. He didn’t recognise the handwriting. He pried open the seal curiously, unfolding the letter inside:

-Dear Mr Potter,

The most famous, most brilliant, most bravest man to ever exist. Who’s arse we must all kiss, and lick, and fondle, though that may be just me. It really is a nice arse you know. Have you ever looked in the mirror? A truly fine specimen. You wouldn’t think it spent so much time on a broomstick being a bloody show off, but here we are, you with a nice arse and me with a picture of it in my head. How delightful.

I have been told to write this letter to get my feelings out. And though I would usually deny these feelings, everything must end - including these ridiculous thoughts. “What thoughts?” You may ask. Well, let me tell you.

I hold a rather large grudge, fuelled almost completely by my own damaged pride. Pride bruised by a lack of you in my life, and pride bruised whenever you are in my life. It is quite the conundrum, I tell you.

A lot of my feelings are unnecessary, some unscrupulous, some unwanted, unfounded, but most of them unreturned. For when have you ever looked into my eyes the way I do yours? When have you lain in the dark, retracing our encounters? Or remembering the colour of your eyes, or the pattern of your freckles, or the way you thin your lips in rage, or lick them with anxiety or when, perhaps, have you thought of me at all? Outside of your obligation to that is? Your obligation to hate me, despise me, distrust me. Please tell me that’s what it is; an obligation. Or at least tell me that you don’t anymore, don’t resent me, loathe me. That’s what I need to believe.

I certainly did you. I hated you, it's true. For many reasons. For stealing the limelight, for bettering me, for dismissing me. But I also admired you, envied you. Resented you, and myself, for my cowardice, for my choices, for having the family that I did, that I do. 

I could go on and on, but the point is this- you still plague my thoughts. You still fill my head. You’re in my dreams, my nightmares, my desires… 

And this is not healthy, it can’t be. Progress is healthy, moving on is healthy. And perhaps just imagining you reading this will contribute towards that.

So let me leave you with this, Potter: I feel so many things for you, and none of them can be resolved, or come to fruition. This is my attempt at goodbye. This is my attempt at starting anew. -

The writing was messy, the ink smeared in places, a stain of some kind in the bottom right corner. But Harry knew this handwriting, spent his teenage years seeing this writing, obsessing over it some nights. And he knew the writing on the front of the letter doesn’t match. 

Which means Draco Malfoy did not intend for Harry to see this.

\---

“Fuckkk…” 

“My thoughts exactly.”

Draco’s eyes shot open, focusing on Pansy as she sat on the armchair, hair brushed, face washed, sitting in a fresh set of pyjamas. “Why the fuck are you okay?” He groaned, rubbing his face. 

Pansy shrugged. “I had a pint of water and a sandwich after you passed out. Woke up feeling perfectly fine.”

“You bitch. Why didn’t you make me one?”

“And wake the beast? No, thank you.” She motioned towards where a mug of steaming tea sat under a stasis charm. “Cuppa?”

Draco hummed thankfully, sitting up carefully so as not to anger his throbbing head further. “Less of a bitch.” He murmured. He sipped at it, the warmth of it easing a bit of the tension in his body. “What time is it?”

“Just past eight.”

“So, really-fucking-early.” 

“Yeah.” Pansy picked up her own mug. “I’m glad you’re awake though.” 

“And why is that?” Draco sat back against the cushions, easing his shoulders as he took another sip.

“What do you remember of last night, love?”

Draco offered an exhausted chuckle. “Some of it.” He tried to think back. “We finished the third bottle of merlot, right? Or was it the fourth? And your dancing, that was great.” He snorted. “Merlin. You do squeal when you’re drunk Pans, I thought my eardrums- OH FUCK!”

“And there it is.” Pansy smiled at him. 

“Oh Merlin, Pansy. Please tell me you burnt it. Please, Please.”

“I’d love to, Draco, I really would. It’s just…” She paused, looking uncharacteristically nervous. “I mean, I was drunk too.”

“Oh no, please tell me you didn’t send it to Blaise!”

“Okay, I didn’t send it to Blaise.”

“Pansy Bernadine Parkinson. What. Did. You. Do?!” 

“Don’t use my full name!” She whined. “You know how much I hate-” 

“Pansy!”

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? It might go well, you never know. I do sometimes have good ideas, and honesty is always the best pol-”

“PANSY!” Draco lurched forwards, his stomach doing the same. Merlin, anxiety and alcohol did not mix well.

“I sent it to Potter.” She whispered, eyes wide.

“WHAT!” Draco stood up so quickly he spilt his tea.

“You never know-”

“At Hogwarts?!” The blond slammed his cup down on the coffee table, standing over his friend.

“Yes?”

“Merlin’s tits!” Draco’s hand flew to his hair, running them through nervously as he began pacing. “Merlin’s fucking tits!” 

“I mean, it's not so bad, right? You could still make it.”

“Make it?” Draco spun around to face her, his mind racing. What had he said? He didn’t even remember half of it. He was pretty sure he mentioned Potter’s arse, and maybe his father? The memories were returning slower than he’d like. Had he signed it?! “What time is it?”

Pansy cast a quick tempus. 8:11. 

“Maybe I can get there before the post does?”

“Not looking like that, you can’t.”

Draco dashed over to the mirror, taking himself in. His hair was knotted and sticking on end, his trousers wrinkled, his shirt untucked and half buttoned, and he probably smelled as bad as he felt. “Shit, right, okay." He bit at his lips nervously, his head racing. “I’m going to go back to mine and shower and change.” He turned to face her. “Can you send a message through firecall asking McGonagall if I can meet her at the end of breakfast? Say something about a tour of the new quidditch pitch.”

“Yeah, yeah. Of course.”

“Wish me luck, Pans, or it’s gonna be you who’s in the shit.”

“Yeah, I get it, I’m dead to you.” Pansy waved her hand nonchalantly, as if she was already over the mess she'd created. “Just go and sort yourself out.”

\-----

Harry read, and re-read the letter at least five times, barely even tasting his coffee. Was it true? Did Malfoy really care for him? He couldn’t deny that the slytherin had been his thoughts since the end of their eighth year, but to think he had been in his? That was insane, unbelievable. And yet, here he sat, holding the letter. 

Maybe he was wrong, maybe it wasn’t Malfoy. Sixth year had certainly proven that he wasn’t the best at handwriting. But it added up, the ‘limelight’ , the ‘cowardice’, the ‘family’. And who else had been close enough to him to comment on his freckles, or lips, or eyes, and still matched the things that had been said like Malfoy did?

Fuck, what was he going to do? 

“Come on Harry, you don’t want to be late.” He looked up at Neville. “You alright, mate?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just some unexpected news.”

“You sure? You look a bit frazzled.” Neville’s eyebrows drew together in concern.

Harry pulled on a smile. “All good. You alright?”

“I’m good. Got a whole day of first years today, you’d think they’d be better behaved this far into the year, but they can still be a bit tricky.”

“You’ll do well with them, you always do.” Harry clapped him on the shoulder.

“Thanks, Harry.”

The two men headed out of the Great Hall together. Harry was so distracted he almost didn’t recognise the head of white blond hair standing just outside the doors.

“Malfoy?” 

Draco Malfoy spun around, meeting Harry’s gaze with a look he couldn’t decipher. 

“Potter.” He nodded.

“What are you doing here?” Why was his heart beating so fast?

“I’m meeting Mcgonagall for a tour.” Malfoy wasn’t quite meeting his eyes. He looked good, his hair falling softly over his forehead, no longer slicked back. He was dressed in an all black suit, one hand tucked into his trouser pocket. He looked handsome and confident… except for his other hand, which was tensing and untensing over and over again.

“I’ll catch you later, Harry. Malfoy.” Neville waved goodbye, nodding at the Slytherin. 

“Why are you really here?” Harry asked, though he was sure he already knew the answer. 

“Well,” Malfoy’s voice caught and he cleared his throat. “I suppose I wanted to apologise, for the, um, letter.” He looked down, finally conceding his nervousness.

Harry nodded towards the doors. “The kids will be out soon, follow me.”

“Look, Potter. We don’t have to make this bigger than it needs to be. Let’s just agree to forget about it.”

Harry stopped, turning back to face him. “Why would I do that?” Malfoy finally looked at him. Harry lowered his voice, taking a step closer. “I don’t hate you, Draco.” He licked his lips, terrified of what he was about to say. “It was nice to know you’ve been thinking about me, too.”

Draco’s eyes lit up, before drawing together again. “I’m not in the mood for jokes, Potter.”

“I’m not joking.” Harry took another step forward, until they were only a few feet away from each other. He summoned his Gryffindor courage. “I’ve been thinking about your arse too.” 

Malfoy’s jaw dropped, and he shoved Harry in the chest. “That’s not funny.”

Harry laughed, catching his hands. “It kind of is.”

“Oh shove off, you great big git.” Draco gave a small smile, trying to pull his hands away.

“Make me.” Harry whispered, holding on tighter. If you had told him two hours ago that he would be flirting with Malfoy outside the Great Hall, he would have told you to go and get your head checked for wrackspurts. He felt almost giddy with excitement and disbelief, and most of all, anxiety. He was just riding on the wave of adrenaline at this point. 

Draco snorted. “Good idea, Potter. The hallway is about to flood with students.” The Slytherin didn’t look away though, his silver eyes holding Harry's with a hopeful look.

Harry finally let go of his hands, but neither man stepped away. “Take me to dinner then.”

“You’re asking me to ask you to dinner?” Draco shook his head in disbelief

“Yeah, why not?”

“Very romantic.” He drawled.

“Hey! I’m the one who had to decipher your horrific handwriting.” And read your half-lusty, half-sad ramblings on four hours sleep, he thought.

“Oh, Merlin.” Draco winced. “Fine. Do you want to come to dinner with me?”

“You could be a bit more enthusiastic.” Harry mock-pouted.

“I’ll bloody take the offer back if you’re not careful.”

“Alright, okay.” Harry looked over Draco’s shoulder to see students starting to pour out of the Great Hall. He grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze. “Owl me the details.” 

And with that, Potter dashed off down the hallway, leaving Draco’s fingers tingling and his stomach fluttering with butterflies. They were both doomed, surely, so why were they both so excited about it?

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Hi! You can also find me as bibislut on tumblr here: [Bibislut](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/bibislut)


End file.
